


To Keep You Close Again

by Bohemienne



Series: Ficmas 2016 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Dom, Bottoming from the Top, Cap's harness, Fluff, M/M, Metal arm porn, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Supersoldier Refractory Period, Top Steve Rogers, like maybe if you squint, very light D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: Thinly: Steve has been busy taking down a crime syndicate and Bucky is a little impatient.Mainly: Metal arm porn. Leather harness porn. Just porn.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SulaMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SulaMoon/gifts), [superheroresin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superheroresin/gifts), [HeartOfTheMirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/gifts), [Riakomai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riakomai/gifts), [littleblackfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/gifts), [FowlProse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FowlProse/gifts), [DoubleOhWh00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleOhWh00/gifts), [rohkeutta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/gifts).



> Super quick and sweet. For all my favorite Stuckychat enablers who humored me when I had a minor harness- and metal arm-related meltdown. <333 And especially Sula for the amazing smut arts that prompted it! Merry Ficmas!

Steve barely manages an “Area secure” into his comm when arms slide around his waist from behind.

“Good work, Cap,” Bucky murmurs into his other ear. “And ahead of schedule, too.”

Steve’s stomach tightens at the dark heat in Bucky’s tone. It’s one he knows all too well, and yet it never fails to make his pulse flare.

They’re standing in the middle of the palatial penthouse of the now-incarcerated Gallways, who’d been money laundering and providing other means of support to MODOK, and as Steve turns his head toward Bucky, he catches sight of them both in one of the floor-length gilded mirrors. Bucky, metal arm freshly polished and gleaming, his black BDUs and flak jacket helping him blend into the shadows of the massive master bedroom; and Steve, suited up in navy, though he’d ditched the helmet once they’d secured the perimeter. Bucky’s metal fingers are tracing a slow circle around Steve’s left hip, and despite the thick padding of his uniform, Steve can practically feel them searing into his skin.

“Why don’t you shut your comms off for a bit?” Bucky’s mouth is right against Steve’s ear, hot breath swirling around the shell of it, and Steve sucks in his breath. “We’ve got an hour until pick-up.”

The _p_ s pop lewdly, but that barely has time to register in Steve’s mind before Bucky catches his earlobe in his teeth and tugs it down in a forceful suck.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes. And like that, his combat discipline shatters. Without thinking, his hips rock back against Bucky’s, and he’s relieved to know he isn’t the only one experiencing a sudden tightness in his uniform’s groin area. Even though he shouldn’t be—he _really_ shouldn’t be.

“Rogers?” Hill asks on the comms. “Repeat dispatch?”

“Uh—nothing.” Steve squirms out of Bucky’s grasp and brings one finger up to the comm in his ear. “All evidence has been collected and we’re just awaiting pick-up now, over.”

“Yes, you already said that,” Hill says. Is he imagining it, or does she sound a little smug? “You’ve got an hour until they arrive, so—”

“—Yeah. Yeah, I think we’ll go dark on comms until pick-up time—”

“You got it, Cap. Over and out.”

Steve yanks the earpiece out and flicks it off. As he tucks it into one of his belt pouches, he turns toward Bucky, his expression dark in the dim light. “Always the model soldier.”

“You know that’s not true.” He takes a step toward Bucky, fingers twitching to reach for him. But they’re in some gilded temple that belongs to criminals, and they’re in uniform besides, and even if they’ve got time, it—it wouldn’t be right—

“Steve. Sweetheart.” Bucky catches Steve’s hand in his own and tugs Steve closer toward him. “What’s the matter?”

Bucky laces his metal fingers through Steve’s, clad in brown leather fingerless gloves. It never ceases to amaze Steve how gentle he can be with that hand, tender and attentive as if it were still flesh and bone. But that was always Bucky’s way. Sweet when Steve wanted it, but when he didn’t . . .

Steve clears his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I mean, this isn’t our place, and the creeps who lived here paid for it with who knows how much blood—”

“Exactly.” Bucky draws Steve’s hand toward his mouth. “They don’t deserve it. So maybe we oughta . . . dirty it up a bit.”

“Buck—” Steve says, but then Bucky slips Steve’s index finger into his mouth and Steve’s knees go _weak_. His plush lips cushion Steve’s joint as his tongue slides against him, and Bucky’s staring right at him, eyes dark, partly shielded by his thick lashes. Steve feels himself unwind as Bucky carefully eases that finger out, then curls Steve’s hand so he can lap at the next. “ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says again, but this time it’s more like a prayer.

“C’mon.” Bucky’s eyelids flutter shut, and he’s pressing his mouth against the side of Steve’s hand, kissing skin and leather alike. “You worked hard to bring down this whole operation.” He nips at the tip of Steve’s thumb, then lowers their joined hands. “You deserve a little break.”

The knot in Steve’s gut pulls tight. There’s no putting out the fire burning in him now as he takes another step toward Bucky and brings his free hand around to hook in Bucky’s belt loop. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Bucky’s forehead rests against his. Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this—the nervous flutter he gets just before kissing Bucky, like they’re still dumb teenagers blundering their way around each other’s bodies. He tilts his head, nose brushing against nose, and then it’s Bucky’s pillowy lips on his, Bucky’s warm, earthy taste, Bucky’s tongue in his mouth and his hand in Bucky’s hair and his thumb caressing the stubble of Bucky’s jaw. And he never wants this to end. He never wants to feel anything other than the complete and total awe that shines through him every single time as they melt into each other and scrabble to be closer, closer still.

Slowly, Bucky eases away and looks Steve in the eye once more. “Take it under advisement.” He laughs gently. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Steve’s cheeks warm. “What would you rather call it?”

Bucky grips Steve by both hips and presses Steve to him. Steve _groans_ , and thank god for the heavy padding on his uniform, or he’s not sure he could stand up to the incredible friction between them. “How about taking _this_ under advisement?” Bucky asks. “How about you fuck me in that ridiculously huge bed? How about you ditch the uniform—” Bucky glances down at the leather harness straps for the shield. “— _Most_ of the uniform, and let me ride that dick of yours till we’re red, white, and blue?”

Steve buries another groan in Bucky’s throat. Then he sucks at the thin skin there, making Bucky’s back arch. After feathering it with his tongue, he lets go and nips at Bucky’s jaw. “You need this, don’t you.”

Bucky nods, lips parted and flushed.

Steve brushes a dark lock of hair back from Bucky’s face, then traces the tip of his finger around Bucky’s ear. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve been so caught up running this op . . .”

“I’ve been very patient,” Bucky says, smirking.

Steve laughs as Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Yes, you have.”

“But I can only stare at that ass in uniform so long without tearing it off of you.”

Bucky’s fist tightens around Steve’s short hair. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, and he resists for a moment before letting Bucky yank him back, a hungry grin painting his face. With a snarl, Bucky shoves him down onto the mattress, and it swallows them both up like a cloud of 2000-thread count sheets. And Steve can’t help it—he’s really, really liking the idea of messing it up right now, too.

Bucky climbs on top of him and kisses him, fiercer now, stubble scraping against Steve’s cheeks. His tongue thrusts deep into Steve’s mouth as he paws at Steve’s uniform. Steve’s cock is aching now, trapped in all the padding, and as Bucky ruts against him, sparks crackle through his vision.

“Every time you’re barking orders . . .” Bucky nips at Steve’s lower lip, then pulls back with a grin. “Every time you’re giving a brief . . .” He thumbs at Steve’s pec with his metal hand, digging hard enough Steve can feel it through all the layers, and Steve winces as his nipple tightens up like a bud. “Every time you’re looking like a commander.”

“What about it?” Steve asks, curling his hands around Bucky’s thick thighs. He strokes his thumbs upward in broad strokes, working their way higher and higher.

“I just remember how you look when you’re completely wrecked.” Bucky grins. “Hair sticking every which way, your lips all swollen, and my cum all over that pretty chest of yours.”

Steve’s thumb grazes the outline of Bucky’s erection, and in a flash, Bucky snatches Steve’s hand away and pins it over his head.

“Not yet.” With his free hand, he searches for the fastening on Steve’s uniform, teeth gritted, and Steve can’t help but laugh as Bucky’s metal arm tenses around his wrist. Then Bucky stops and leaps off of him. “I can’t deal with this fucking thing.” He gestures to Steve’s uniform. “I swear to god, Rogers, if you don’t want me to rip it open, you better get out of that right fucking now.”

Steve pushes himself up to his elbows. “As fun as that might be . . .”

Bucky snarls. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

A shiver runs through Steve as he jumps to his feet. It’s no small process, stripping out of his combat gear, and he can practically feel the heat of Bucky’s glower as he takes his time easing out of the boots, jumpsuit, harness, Underarmor, gloves—

“Huh-uh.” Bucky points to the gloves. “Those stay. Put the harness back on, too.”

Steve’s grin widens. “If you insist.” He finishes stripping down, shrugs back into the harness, and clicks it shut, shivering at the sound. Then he gives his erection a quick tug, leaving a slick trail of precome along his gloves. When Bucky makes a soft noise at the sight of it, he can’t resist bringing it to his mouth and licking at the leather.

“Lie back down, eyes closed,” Bucky says, husky but commanding. “Arms over your head.”

Steve arches one eyebrow, but obeys. He hears Bucky’s heavy boot tread on the parqueted floors as he circles around the massive four-poster bed. Then Bucky seizes his wrists, and he feels something sturdy wind around them. His leather belt, maybe? Sure enough, he hears it click shut. Bucky must have tied it around one of the posters.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, and runs his fingers along Steve’s cheek.

Steve leans into the caress, painfully aware now of just how much he’s missed this. It’s been—weeks?—since he had a moment to himself. Since _they_ had a moment to themselves. Just Bucky’s touch makes him want to weep. Now that he doesn’t have to shut off that side of his brain, he needs this just as bad as Bucky does—maybe more.

“Good boy,” Bucky says again, then his metal fingers close around Steve’s chin. He tips his head back for an upside down kiss, hasty and forceful, before he steps away.

For a long moment, Steve doesn’t hear anything. Then there’s the sound of zippers, Velcro, laces . . . Steve draws a heavy breath, knowing damn well Bucky can hear him, and clenches his muscles.

“As you may have noticed . . .” Bucky climbs back onto the bed, straddling Steve again. “Our good friends the Gallways were pretty vain.”

Steve shivers as Bucky runs his hands up Steve’s bare chest. With the metal hand, he pinches Steve’s nipple, _hard_ , and Steve whimpers at the sharp burst of sensation. “Wh-what tipped you off?” Steve asks, breathing heavier. “Was it the gold bidet?”

Bucky nips at Steve’s collarbone. “I was thinking specifically about the ceiling mirror.”

Steve blinks and looks up over Bucky’s shoulder. “—Oh.” Then, peering closer, he catches sight of Bucky’s shoulder blades, his back, the sharp angles and soft curve of his ass—“ _Oh_.”

“Mmhmm.” Bucky flicks his tongue against Steve’s nipple, then circles his mouth around it for a long, slow suck. Steve moans, his back curving off the mattress and his cock brushing against Bucky’s ass. After a few seconds sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, Bucky swishes his tongue against Steve’s nipple again, then sits up. “You can see how fucking pretty you look when you come.”

Steve grins. “I’m kinda looking forward to seeing a little more of _that_.” He tries to waggle his eyebrows in the general direction of Bucky’s ass.

“Oh?” Bucky lifts his eyebrows. “What? This?”

He sits up on top of Steve, dick flush against his stomach, and reaches back with the metal arm. Eyes lidding, Bucky nudges his cheeks apart, and Steve clenches his jaw at the sight of him teasing at his own hole with one whirring metal finger.

Bucky smirks and straightens back up. “You like that, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, his throat suddenly parched. “Please,” he whispers. “Since I can’t open you up myself . . .”

Bucky grins, and reaches over Steve to fish around for the pouch in the utility belt that he knows all too well where Steve stores an extra packet of lube.

Steve raises his head off the mattress, taking advantage of Bucky’s position to kiss his abs, then, feeling extra brazen, flick his tongue across the head of Bucky’s leaking cock. Bucky goes still, and Steve braces himself, half-expecting to be punished, but instead, Bucky brushes his fingers down Steve’s lips as he sits partway back.

“You’ve been so good,” Bucky murmurs. “I suppose you deserve a little taste.”

Steve exhales, relieved, and relaxes to let Bucky feed his dick into Steve’s mouth. He tastes salty and sweet, Steve’s favorite taste, and he takes his time running his tongue along the thick veins of Bucky’s shaft. Bucky grips his head in both hands, then starts to thrust into Steve’s mouth, pushing toward his throat. Steve chokes a little at first, but does his best to relax as he draws Bucky deeper and deeper into him.

Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror, red-lipped and wrecked, Bucky thrusting into his mouth, and moans.

Bucky glances up, then laughs. “One of my favorite sights, too. Those pretty lips of yours, those pretty lashes . . .” He brushes his thumb against Steve’s lashes. “There’s only one way I like it better.”

Steve stifles another groan at the thought, and laves his tongue around Bucky’s shaft once more.

“You wanna give me that, baby?” Bucky asks, and begins to thrust into his mouth again. “You wanna be good and wrecked for me?”

Steve nods and makes a noise in the back of his throat.

Bucky pumps himself deep into Steve’s throat, then tosses his head back, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Steve starts to moan at the gorgeous sight of Bucky’s curved chest, his lips caught mid-climax and a sharp cry working out of him—but then Bucky’s taste is filling him, his mouth, salty and a little sweet and so warm and, Jesus, there’s just so _much_ , and Steve is trying to swallow it all down, he’s missed this taste, he’s missed this feeling of helplessness trapped around Bucky and yet feeling of total control as he knows it was his mouth that gave Bucky such pleasure—he just wants to savor and savor it.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, and slumps forward.

Steve is still gagging on his hot cum as Bucky eases out of him, then thrusts his tongue into Steve’s mouth with sharp, artless sweeps. Steve sucks at Bucky’s tongue, savoring the thought of Bucky tasting himself on Steve’s lips.

Slowly, Bucky straightens up again and wipes back of his hand on his mouth. His lips are shiny, and if Steve weren’t already rock-hard, that sight alone would spring him to attention in no time. “God, I missed you,” Steve whispers.

Bucky laughs, sounding happy but with plenty of energy still. “Yeah?” He reaches for the packet of lube and tears it open in his teeth. “Let’s find out just how bad.”

Steve rocks his head back against the mattress and looks up at the mirror again. With a squirt of lube on his metal fingertips, Bucky reaches behind himself once more and peels his cheeks back to give Steve a better glance, in the mirror, of his tight pink hole. Steve sucks in his breath as Bucky teases the tip of one finger inside, then pushes it deeper still.

“Please,” Steve whines. “I wanna see you, sweetheart. Wanna touch you.”

Keeping his metal hand where it is, Bucky crouches down over Steve to give him a better view in the mirror. “Like this, baby?” he coos into Steve’s ear, and Steve winces as his cock pulses anew. “Wish it were your fingers doing this?”

Steve flexes his hands, still bound to the bed post, and nods.

“Tell you what,” Bucky says—then shudders as he works another finger into himself. Steve bites his lower lip to stifle a hungry cry. “Anything you can reach with your mouth is all yours.”

Steve lets out his breath and sinks his teeth into the meat of Bucky’s shoulder, his gaze fixed on the mirror. Bucky twitches above him and thrusts his fingers deeper into himself. Between them, Steve can feel Bucky’s cock stirring again, and he clenches his thighs.

“Getting impatient?” Bucky asks, his tone husky once more. “Mm. tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, his voice taut with want. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging for so long.”

Bucky’s eyes close as he shoves his fingers deeper still. “I know you didn’t. But I’m gonna make you wait. Just . . . one minute . . . more.”

Steve sucks at Bucky’s skin, relishing the sheen of sweat on it. Everything smells like Bucky, and it’s the kind of smell he wants to wrap himself up in forever. Then he glances back up as Bucky begins to ease a third finger into his hole, and Steve’s toes curl.

“Please,” Steve whispers. “Please. I wanna feel you again.”

“Feel me?” Bucky moans softly as he pushes into himself, then smirks. “I’m right here on top of you, baby.”

“You know what I _mean_.”

Bucky cries out with a whirring of his arm’s servos as his fingers thrust deeper into himself. Steve bites down on him to muffle a cry of his own.

“Maybe,” Bucky says, “you should try telling me what it is you want.”

Steve feels his face go red. It’s stupid, he knows, that after all this time with Bucky, he still gets so flustered. And it certainly isn’t as if Bucky’s ever given him reason to feel embarrassed. But it seems so easy for Bucky, barking orders at him, whispering all kinds of wonderful filth in his ear (and sometimes even in his earpiece) about what he wants, how he wants it, when and where and and and. As much as Steve loves being on the receiving end of Bucky’s dirty talk, he wants to be able to make Bucky feel that way, too.

So he nuzzles his nose against the side of Bucky’s neck, breathing in his musky scent, and lets loose all the bottled-up yearning he’s felt these past few weeks.

“I wanna lose myself in you,” Steve says gently. “That sweet, tight hole of yours—but the rest of you, too. Every inch of you.”

Bucky murmurs, appreciative, but makes no sign of stopping pleasing himself.

“My dick was made to be inside you. I was made to be yours.” He pauses to scrape his teeth against the underside of Bucky’s stubbled jaw. “I was made to fuck you, sweetheart, and I live for it. Live for making you come.”

“Better,” Bucky says. “Keep going.”

Steve’s face is burning up now, but he does his best to let go. “And, god, was I made to hit that sweet spot in you and watch your whole body light up. Please,” Steve keens. “Please, sweetheart, I wanna see it. I wanna make you come again for me just from riding on my cock.”

Bucky eases his hand out of himself with a contented sigh and sits up straight on Steve’s stomach. “That’s more like it.” He feels around on the mattress for the packet of lube and squeezes the rest of it into his flesh palm. “I wanna ride you too, baby.” He reaches back and wraps a fist around Steve’s cock—rough, sudden. Steve cries out at the sensation, bright and searing in his skin, and bucks upward with his hips. “And I’m gonna wring every last drop out of you.”

Steve tries to twist against him, but Bucky seizes him by the leather harness still clipped round his chest. Holds him in place. Then, rising up onto his knees, he sinks down, and down.

His body is _clutching_ at Steve’s cock, it’s so warm and slick and tense, and Steve is moaning before he can even stop himself, the sound coming from somewhere long buried. Bucky’s ass comes to rest all the way at Steve’s base, firm and perfectly curved, and for a second, Steve just wants to weep at how right it feels. How much he’s missed this. But then Bucky is grabbing his harness with both hands and pulling himself up, only by fractions, and then—slams back down on Steve.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve cries. Because how the fuck is he supposed to hold on like this? When he can feel his head pushing against Bucky’s spot and Bucky’s grinning down at him like it’s something he’s getting away with. Steve clenches his glutes, forcing himself deeper into Bucky, and for all that it makes Bucky moan, Steve’s feeling it crackle under his skin as a white haze reaches out for him.

“That’s it,” Bucky says, still using the harness like handles as he rocks himself up and down on Steve’s cock. “That’s my baby. Put those muscles to use.”

Each quick jab of Steve’s hips only adds to the incredible, sparking friction building up in him. “Please, Buck.”

Bucky grins at him again and lets go with his metal hand, though he keeps the other wrapped firmly around the leather harness straps. His metal hand, though, grasps at his shaft, hard and flushed once more, and Steve whimpers as he watches Bucky deftly stroke and tease himself with those smooth metal digits while he keeps grinding down on Steve. “Almost there, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m—” Steve swallows. “I’m not just _almost_ there—”

Bucky yanks at the harness, pulling Steve’s chest half off the mattress.

“Hang tight, sweetheart. For me.”

Steve chokes down a sob. His whole shaft is burning from the friction, from the incredible, wonderful squeeze of Bucky, from the very _sight_ of Bucky and the iron in his voice, but he has to hold on, he has to—

Then finally Bucky is crying out again, white thick cum pumping out of his cock, and Steve sinks back against the mattress as he drives up into Bucky one last time and holds himself there. It’s like a downpour, all at once, and holy _fuck_ does he love the feel of Bucky filling up with his seed, their heat all mixing together, as his whole body goes numb and he sinks and sinks and sinks.

Bucky shoves his metal fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth and Steve instinctively closes his lips around the digits, both bitter metal and tangy with Bucky’s juices. He’s completely spent, but he takes his time lavishing Bucky’s fingers with his tongue, running it along the grooves and sucking at every last drop in between the plates.

“Good boy,” Bucky says. “So, so good for me.” He brings his flesh hand up to cup the side of Steve’s face and looms down over him. “I knew you could be patient for me.”

Steve beams up at him. Bucky’s dark hair is tangled, draping his face, and his face is deep red, but nothing beats that huge grin he’s wearing. Steve feels it inside his own body, filling him up. He’d do anything to see that smile, but then, he doesn’t much mind doing the very things that tend to put it there.

 _No more long-ass missions_ , he promises himself. He kisses Bucky’s palm and closes his eyes. Some things were way more important. As soon as they got picked up and were back home, he’d tell Hill—

“—Shit.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow.

“How much longer do we have?” Steve jerks up, but is yanked back down by the belt binding him to the poster bed and the weight of the muscular supersoldier currently riding him.

Bucky laughs and gives Steve a pat on the cheek. “Why? You ready for another round, babydoll?”

“No! Because the extraction team will be here any minute. And you’re—” Steve glances down, where their combined juices are collecting in the ridges of his stomach. “I mean, we’re both—”

“Looking a little fucked out?” Bucky smirks again. “All right, fine. I tell you what.” He eases himself off of Steve’s hips and plants a flurry of kisses on Steve’s temple. “I saw one of those fancy multi-setting showers in the master bath. I’m sure we’ve got just enough time to clean up there.”

Steve laughs, weary, as Bucky unfastens the belt from around his wrists. Steve lets his arms drop over the edge of the bed for a moment before swinging them up and around and trapping Bucky in an embrace.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, but there’s no force behind it. Steve cradles Bucky’s face as he kisses him, deep and slow. The way he always should.

“So.” Steve brushes Bucky’s hair back from his cheek. “Am I forgiven? For getting too caught up in work?”

“Forgiven? Oh, hell, no.” Bucky ducks out of his embrace, then offers him a hand to pull him off the bed. “But I'm at least considering it now.”

Steve lets himself be dragged up, but can’t resist yanking Bucky into another quick kiss. “Just considering, huh?”

“We got twenty whole minutes.” Bucky smacks him on the ass and steers him toward the master bath. “Plenty of more time to convince me.”

Steve unclips the harness from around his shoulders, wriggles out of it, and then drapes one opening around Bucky’s head before he tugs Bucky into the marble bathroom with him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> [sad grandpas always sad always on tumblr](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)


End file.
